


Wine and Dine

by Llama1412



Series: Don't Cry For Me, Temeria [11]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Affection, Aftercare, Come Sharing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom/sub, F/M, Face-Sitting, Facials, Food Sex, M/M, Multi, Non-Human Genitalia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Secret Relationship, Spitroasting, Strap-Ons, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Temperature Play, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26346025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: Triss's tent is neutral ground. If that means Iorveth and Roche end up fucking next to Geralt and Triss - well, it's only polite to acknowledge them.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Triss Merigold, Iorveth/Vernon Roceh/Geral z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Triss Merigold, Iorveth/Vernon Roche
Series: Don't Cry For Me, Temeria [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912225
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52





	Wine and Dine

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, apparently I talked myself into a new OT4? Or like 2 couples who swing together, idk. This is set in the same universe as (Im)Perfect Strangers, but doesn't actually fit into the continuity there, though I wrote it as if coming after Chapter 9 when everyone is camping at the mouth of the Pontar. Think of this as....idk, an alternate universe?

It started with Triss. Technically, her tent wasn’t neutral ground, but both the Scoia’tael and the Temerians were working with Geralt and Geralt was staying with Triss, so it was as close to neutral ground as there was. Aside from Saskia’s tent, anyway, but Iorveth would _never_ go for that. Not unless Saskia was involved, anyway.

Which – well, Roche wouldn’t exactly be opposed, but he was fairly certain Saskia had bigger concerns right now. Not that they didn’t, but well – it had been a _long_ week and they could all use a little tension relief.

That was Triss’s argument. And they didn’t honestly take much convincing, any of them. Which was why, after the camp settled into the night shift, with most people happily asleep, Roche crept into Triss’s tent.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up straight as he passed through a slight resistance, and then, instead of silence, he could hear soft moans. The sight that greeted him was utterly delightful – Geralt was splayed out on his back with Iorveth kneeling between his knees while Triss kissed Geralt softly. Iorveth’s hand, Roche noticed, was moving steadily in and out of Geralt, stretching him around four fingers. 

Roche licked his lips, stepping up behind Iorveth and sliding his hands over those narrow shoulders, the curve of which fit perfectly in his palms. Triss pulled back and looked up at him, smiling with lipstick that was somehow still perfect even though it was smeared across Geralt’s lips.

“Nice of you to join us, Vernon,” Triss said.

Iorveth tilted his head back against Roche’s stomach and Roche bent down to kiss him, first a little peck on the nose, just to annoy him, then letting their mouths meet properly. Iorveth sighed, reaching up to pull Roche’s chaperone off so that he could sink his fingers into the curly hair on top of Roche’s head. 

Geralt moaned lowly, and Roche realized that Iorveth was still pushing his fingers into the Witcher, circling them teasingly in a way that was clearly driving Geralt mad. Triss, absolutely merciless, bent down to suck on Geralt’s nipples, giving him zero break from the stimulation.

Geralt’s hands were crossed above his head, fists clenched as he tried to stay still for them. His knees were raised and his legs spread as wide as they could with his heels planted on the bed. Roche hummed, kissing Iorveth’s cheeks, then the crown of his head as he let Iorveth tilt his head forward again. Roche smoothed his hands down Iorveth’s arms and reached out to wrap his fingers around Geralt’s ankle, tugging until he could raise Geralt’s leg over Iorveth’s shoulder. Iorveth automatically turned to bite kisses into the meat of Geralt’s calf, in concert with the way Roche sucked a mark around the knob of Geralt’s ankle.

Triss twisted one of Geralt’s nipples and the Witcher arched with a wild gasp, his cock leaking over his stomach, which was already spattered with cum, and Roche licked his lips, wondering what Geralt tasted like, how his taste would blend with Iorveth’s. 

Iorveth tilted his head with a smirk, clearly able to read Roche’s thoughts on his face. Iorveth arched his neck first to bite Roche’s jaw, then he leaned down and licked through the mess on Geralt’s belly. He twisted to offer the taste to Roche, and Roche eagerly licked into Iorveth’s mouth, sucking Geralt’s cum from Iorveth’s tongue and chasing Iorveth’s own taste.

“Fuck,” Geralt moaned, his voice already loose and slurred. Triss hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d mentioned over drinks once that Geralt _loved_ being dominated. _And,_ she’d winked coyly, _bet he’d like a nice solid soldier to hold him down._

Geralt was undoubtedly the strongest amongst them, though elven strength was no small thing either. But, Iorveth had once admitted, it wasn’t about strength. It was about the solid bulk of Roche’s body, the feeling of being completely covered in human heat and weight. 

Well, Roche was more than happy to oblige, of course. Any and every time they wanted. But even he knew that Triss was the one truly in charge here. It was her tent, after all. And her bed.

“Hmm, how big do you want, Geralt?” Triss unrolled her collection of toys with a flick of her wrist, the leather unfurling across the bedspread and revealing an impressive selection. 

Some of them, Roche was intrigued to see, were _quite_ large, to the point that he wondered if taking them was actually possible. He really wanted to find out.

But not today. Or at least, _he_ wouldn’t be finding out personally today. He and Triss had something entirely different planned, and he met her eyes with a smirk. She winked at him, skimming her fingers over the choices before selecting a “moderate” sized one – by which Roche meant, it was still larger than any human he’d ever seen.

“How about this?” Triss held the toy up for Geralt to see and he made a slightly disappointed sound, which had her grinning. “You have to be able to walk tomorrow, love. But you can take this without any further stretching, can’t you?”

Geralt’s eyes fluttered and he made a soft noise, tilting his head for a kiss, which Triss obligingly gifted him. Roche cocked an eyebrow, impressed. He was a lot more used to Iorveth’s brand of submission, which involved fighting him every step of the way until he was forced to overpower his elf.

Speaking of…

“C’mere,” Roche drawled into Iorveth’s ear, flicking his tongue along it just to watch Iorveth shudder. He wrapped his arms around Iorveth and manhandled him down onto the mattress. Iorveth fought him, because that’s who Iorveth was as a person, and because it meant that Roche had to fight dirty to make Iorveth submit – which he did, happily sliding his fingers down to tease over Iorveth’s cock at the same time he stretched up and sucked on the tip of Iorveth’s ear.

Iorveth shuddered, going lax under him and Roche rewarded him with another stroke and another suck before tearing away to drag his teeth down Iorveth’s back in a long scrape. Iorveth arched into it with a low, rasping moan.

When he pulled back, he pinned Iorveth’s wrists at the small of his back, and Iorveth bucked against him, struggling against his hold without ever actually removing his wrists from Roche’s grasp. Roche smirked approvingly, grinding his hips forward against Iorveth’s ass so that the elf could feel how excited their grappling had him. He guided his cock to slide across not just Iorveth’s crack, but the cunt hidden behind the elf’s cock. Iorveth moaned into the pillow his face was smushed into, tilting his hips so that Roche could push between his thighs and rub over the lips of his cunt. Roche fucked into Iorveth’s thighs, finally pulling his eyes from the line of Iorveth’s shoulders at Geralt’s loud shuddering sigh, dripping with so much pleasure that it made him shiver. He turned to watch Geralt come in spurts over his own stomach while Triss rotated a toy inside him, pressing against that spot that drove men wild in Roche’s experience. 

When Geralt’s cock dribbled with the last remnants of his orgasm and his limbs twitched at every sensation, Triss finally took pity on him, releasing the toy, though she left it inside him for Geralt to squeeze around. Instead, she pressed a wet kiss to the head of Geralt’s cock, licking the smears of cum from her lips delicately afterwards in a way that had Roche moaning in concert with Geralt. 

Iorveth squeezed his thighs around Roche’s cock and Roche moaned again, though it was mixed with a laugh. “Nothing to be jealous of, darling,” he drawled, leaning forward to suck kisses up Iorveth’s back. “I would never deprive you of such a view.”

So saying, he slid a hand under Iorveth until his palm was against Iorveth’s sternum, then he pulled the elf up against him, so that they were both balanced on their knees. 

“Look at them,” he murmured in Iorveth’s ear, nibbling on his earlobe. 

Iorveth did, gasping a soft, “fuck,” as Triss pulled Geralt by his hair until the Witcher was kneeling in front of her. She was wearing a delicate-looking harness made of deep scarlet lace, and she’d attached another toy at the front, the thick glass phallus sticking out like a proud cock. 

“Get me wet, Geralt,” Triss ordered and Geralt eagerly wrapped his lips around the wide strap, slowly sinking down as far as he could.

“Oh, fuck,” Roche muttered, watching Geralt pull back and then force the strap further into his throat.

“Vernon,” Iorveth squirmed against him, and Roche realized that he’d absentmindedly let a hand drift down to stroke teasingly over Iorveth’s cock, the slick that dripped from the spiraling ridge around the elven cock easing the friction, and he had a sudden idea. 

“Hold on a moment, darling,” Roche whispered in Iorveth’s ear, blowing cool air over the wet skin just to watch Iorveth shiver. “Lie back for me, hmm?”

Then he pulled away from Iorveth enough to lean over to Triss and Geralt. With his clean hand, he pulled Geralt back long enough for him to wrap a fist wet with Iorveth’s slick over Triss’s strap.

“You deserve a taste,” he said to Geralt, bringing his hand up to his own mouth to lick the remnants of Iorveth’s slick. “A true delicacy.”

Triss’s mouth twitched in amusement and she stroked through Geralt’s hair. “You heard him, Geralt. Don’t you want to know what Iorveth tastes like?”

Geralt moaned, eagerly lapping at Triss’s strap, and Iorveth shivered at Geralt’s reaction, fisting his own hands in Roche’s hair so that he could chase the taste of himself in Roche’s mouth. He was laying on his back with his legs spread, letting Roche rock their cocks together, and oh, he loved taking Iorveth like this, loved when he could see Iorveth’s face overcome with pleasure because of _him._

But more than that, he wanted his own taste of Iorveth, his mouth already watering at the thought. He had no idea if all elves were so addictive, but Iorveth tasted sweet and sharp and Roche always found himself wanting more, more, _more._

So he wiggled his way down Iorveth’s body, sucking vivid marks across Iorveth’s chest as he went. Finally, he pushed Iorveth’s legs wider apart, licking up the wetness that had dripped down Iorveth’s thigh. 

“Vernon,” Iorveth growled, his voice gruff and cracked with pleasure. 

Roche nipped at his thigh, digging his teeth lightly into the muscle. Iorveth twitched against him, cunt clenching around nothing and positively dripping wet. Roche buried his face into Iorveth’s folds with a content sigh, lapping up the taste of Iorveth and every burst of flavor across his tongue had him simultaneously satisfied and craving more. Roche sealed his mouth around Iorveth’s clit and sucked lightly, swirling around it with his tongue.

His senses were surrounded by Iorveth, especially when the elf wrapped long legs around his head. But beyond the scent and taste and smell and feel of Iorveth, Roche could hear Triss’s moans mixing with Geralt’s, a beautiful duet of high and low tones together. Roche pulled back, licking along the crease of Iorveth’s thigh.

“Watch them,” he rumbled, “tell me what they look like, how it makes you feel.”

Iorveth’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes dark and feverish with lust, and he obediently shifted his gaze from Roche to where Geralt was kneeling on the bed next to them, choking and whining softly around Triss’s strap.

Roche dove back down, licking and sucking at Iorveth’s folds as Iorveth’s wrecked voice hesitantly spoke, “they’re – fuck, Geralt is taking her so well, even though she’s so big, his jaw must be sore.”

“Ah, but he likes that, don’t you, Geralt?” Triss said, her own voice deeper in a way Roche had only ever heard in situations like this, with the four of them – or, on a few memorable occasions, just the two of them, before Geralt and Iorveth had come into their lives in this way. After all, what was a true friend if not someone you could fuck and commiserate with as you both yearned for another?

On that note, Roche pulled back pushing himself up. “Want a taste?” he offered Triss and her eyes flashed with interest.

They each leaned forward until their mouths were meeting in the space between Iorveth and Geralt, and Triss licked dedicatedly into his mouth as their partners watched. 

“Mmm,” Triss murmured when she pulled back to let Roche breathe unimpeded. “You weren’t kidding, he tastes delicious.”

Iorveth groaned, raising his arm to cover his flushing face, and Roche couldn’t have that. 

“Ah ah ah,” he tutted, wrapping his fingers around Iorveth’s wrist and dragging it down until he could pin it next to Iorveth’s hips. “You don’t get to hide from me,” he growled, meeting Iorveth’s eye seriously and Iorveth’s breath hitched, his wrist trembling in Roche’s grip.

Roche stretched himself out over Iorveth, dragging his wrist up next to his shoulder and pinning down Iorveth’s free hand as well. Iorveth took a deep breath, eye still locked with Roche’s, and let it out slowly, body deliberately relaxing under Roche’s weight. 

“Good boy,” he murmured, shifting his hips until Iorveth’s cock was trapped between their bellies and Roche’s cock could drag over Iorveth’s cunt. Iorveth whined, his eye fluttering as he struggled to keep watching Roche. “You’re so ready to get fucked, aren’t you? So wet and aching for me.” Roche sucked across Iorveth’s jaw, careful to not leave marks anywhere too visible, and nibbled at his earlobe. “Ask for it.” Iorveth grit his teeth against his moan, but Roche could feel it rumbling in his chest and smirked against Iorveth’s ear. “You wanna get fucked, you gotta ask for it, all polite like, hmm?”

“Fuck you,” Iorveth grunted, even as he wrapped his legs around Roche’s hips, trying to pull him closer.

Roche moved with the tug, rolling his hips against Iorveth without ever entering him. “Mmm, I’d rather fuck you tonight.”

“Then do it,” Iorveth snapped.

Roche smirked, scattering kisses across Iorveth’s face. “Ask.”

“Nnhh,” Iorveth bit his lip against a moan and Roche tugged that lip away with his teeth, sucking on it. “Vernon,” Iorveth mumbled against him.

“You know what I want,” he released Iorveth’s lip and nipped at his chin. “Think about it – I could be hot and hard inside you right now, instead of against you. All you have to do is ask.”

“Fuck,” Iorveth’s hips jerked and shuddered against him. “Gods, you’re such a fucking asshole. Fuck me, dammit!”

Roche grinned, kissing Iorveth in reward before pulling back and flipping him onto his stomach. Iorveth moaned, pulling his knees under himself and pushing back against Roche.

“Good boy,” Roche drawled, smoothing his hands up Iorveth’s back until he could pin Iorveth to the bed by the back of his neck. Iorveth shuddered under his grasp and when he finally slid his cock inside Iorveth, Iorveth’s wail was only partially muffled by the pillow.

“Mmm, I was hoping that silencing spell would be worth my while,” Triss said, and Roche turned to grin at her, taking his time to drag his eyes across her flushed skin, a rosy blush that highlighted the dark red of her harness. Her nipples stuck out, hard peaks that were nearly the same shade as the lace, and her hands stroked oil over her strap before she pulled Geralt’s hips up until the Witcher mirrored Iorveth’s position. She slid inside him in one smooth glide, and Roche found his mouth dry as he watched Geralt’s hole stretch around her.

His cock twitched inside Iorveth and Iorveth squeezed around him, trying to push back to demand movement, but unable to gain any real leverage. Just to be a dick, Roche made Iorveth wait a few long moments, until a growl was building in Iorveth’s chest. Then he thrust forward sharply and the growl hiccuped into a moan. Roche set their pace like that, rocking into Iorveth hard and deep, enjoying the sounds that the pillow couldn’t silence.

Next to him, close enough that he could feel goosebumps shiver across his arms from the magic surrounding her, Triss moved in counterpoint to Roche’s rhythm, rolling her hips into Geralt with slow intentionality. Geralt was clearly enjoying it, mouth open and drooling against the pillow and soft whines spilling from his lips. 

“You know what I could use?” Triss asked casually, as if two of their number weren’t half incoherent with pleasure.

“What’s that?” Roche asked with a rough chuckle.

“A bottle of wine.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement. “What was that vintage we had once? Toussaint red from, oh, 1256?”

“Ooooh, yes, that would hit the spot perfectly,” Triss grinned with a wink. She held a hand out and chanted something in Elder that sent a cool shiver of power over each of them. Geralt and Iorveth both shuddered with a moan, and Roche watched the way a bottle of wine materialized in her hand, white fire crackling like lightning around it. She held it out to him, “do the honors?”

“I’d be delighted,” he purred, grasping the bottle by its neck. The glass was cool against his hand and he planted the base of it on the small of Iorveth’s back as he worked at the cork. Iorveth shuddered at the touch of cold, clenching around him as pulling out the cork just happened to require rocking his hips into Iorveth. 

Finally, the cork popped out with a slight hiss of pressure releasing and Roche offered it back to Triss. Usually, they were classy enough to pour their wine into glasses, but they were busy right now, and there was something thrilling about being surrounded by all the finery befitting Triss’s prior station in the Temerian Court and drinking straight from the bottle like a heathen.

Triss took a swig from the bottle and then offered it to him through a kiss, sharing the mouthful of wine between them. Roche swallowed the rich wine, letting Triss fuck her tongue into his mouth.

“Mmmm,” he rumbled when she pulled away, “tastes just as I remember.”

Come to think of it, the last time they’d had this particular wine, it had also been accompanied by the taste of her. Which gave him a delightful idea, and he held his hand out for the bottle, taking a sip before splashing the wine over Iorveth’s back, quickly leaning down to lap it up. The cool liquid followed by his warm mouth made Iorveth arch against him.

“What a wonderful idea,” Triss said, and plucked the wine out of his hand.

Geralt made a high pitched, startled sound and Roche laughed against Iorveth’s back, thrusting deep inside the elf. 

Iorveth whined, “fuck, again, please.”

“Mmm, good boy,” Roche hummed, sucking the small puddle of wine that had gathered along the sharp cut of Iorveth’s shoulder blade. The damn elf was far too skinny, and Roche made a note to himself to fatten him up in Vergen. There was something novel and delightful about making plans for the future, even small ones. At this point, he was really coming to believe they would _have_ a future together and he hoped it never stopped feeling miraculous and wonderful.

He leaned back to get the wine from Triss and they shared it between them in red-stained kisses until he pulled back and poured wine across Iorveth’s back again, chasing each rolling droplet across Iorveth’s skin. Iorveth shuddered, pushing his hips back against Roche as much as he could, attempting to fuck himself on Roche’s cock. 

Roche laughed against his back, sucking a mark at the base of Iorveth’s neck. “You want to do the work?” He wrapped his hands around Iorveth’s chest and hauled the elf up until he was able to sit back on his ankles, Iorveth in his lap, slightly sticky back pressed to his chest. “Be my guest.”

Iorveth huffed, but rose onto his knees until he could _truly_ fuck himself on Roche’s cock. Roche licked his lips, tracing his eyes along the length of Iorveth’s body. Triss tapped his arm with the wine bottle to get his attention and he cleared his throat with a blush, even though of all places, this was perhaps the one where it was actually safe to get caught up in Iorveth’s beauty. 

He took the bottle, wrapping an arm around Iorveth’s waist to keep him in place long enough to offer the lip of the bottle to the elf. Iorveth hummed, letting Roche pour wine into his mouth. Then, Roche pulled Iorveth’s chin towards him until he could lick into Iorveth’s full mouth, causing wine to spill from the corners of his mouth. Roche hardly cared, not when Iorveth moaned into him, tilting his hips back and forth to enjoy Roche’s cock even as Roche held him in place.

Roche released Iorveth’s chin, letting him tilt his head back against Roche’s shoulder. Iorveth’s eyelid fluttered as he gasped for breath, his lips swollen and stained dark red with trails of burgundy flowing down his neck. Roche couldn’t help burying his face into Iorveth’s neck, licking across the traces of wine and wishing he could leave a mark. But Iorveth’s armor exposed his neck, and the last thing they needed was someone asking about it.

Besides, Iorveth let him mark other places, ones hidden from prying eyes. He kissed down Iorveth’s neck and across the shoulder in front of him, fitting his teeth into the imprint that hadn’t quite faded from Iorveth’s skin yet.

“Yes,” Iorveth gasped, voice nearly soundless as he circled his hips.

Roche bit down hard, digging his teeth into Iorveth’s shoulder and sucking roughly, bucking into Iorveth. 

“I have an idea,” Triss said, and Geralt whined loudly as she pulled out of him. She shushed him softly, knee-walking them around until they were facing Iorveth and Roche. Geralt’s face was flushed, his eyes dark and hazy and so clearly _happy_ that it made something warm flicker in Roche’s chest. 

Geralt was the only one who hadn’t gotten a taste of wine yet, and that was hardly fair, was it? So Roche held the bottle to Iorveth’s lips again, but this time, he ordered in a rough voice, “kiss him, Geralt.”

Geralt obeyed, reaching out to kiss Iorveth fiercely. Iorveth moaned, loud and surprised and pleased. 

Roche watched them kiss, watched Geralt suck desperately at Iorveth’s lips and his tongue, watched the way wine dripped down from the corners of their mouths, watched Iorveth chase Geralt’s mouth if he pulled away even the slightest amount. Triss made a soft sound and Roche glanced up to see her just as fixated by the sight of the two of them, two pale faces, just slightly too _off_ to be human, and yet more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen.

Triss licked her lips, tugging on Geralt’s hips to move him where she wanted. The action forced him to lean forward as far as he could to kiss Iorveth, until eventually, he couldn’t reach anymore and they both whined piteously. Roche laughed, tucking his face behind Iorveth’s ear and sucking at the sensitive skin there.

“Don’t worry, love, you’ll get your mouth filled properly,” Triss promised Geralt and this time when she slid inside him, she pushed Geralt’s head down until he was level with Iorveth’s cock.

Roche tucked his chin over Iorveth’s shoulder and watched. “Yeah, you want Geralt to take you, don’t you, Iorveth?”

Iorveth moaned, squirming against the arm Roche still had around Iorveth’s waist, restricting his movement. Roche chuckled, sucking on the closest skin he could reach. 

“Show us how good you are with your mouth, Geralt,” Triss ordered and Geralt smiled muzzily, nuzzling forward into Iorveth’s pelvis before he opened his mouth against the base of Iorveth’s cock. Roche watched, his heartbeat echoing in his ear, as Geralt dragged his mouth up the side of Iorveth’s cock, stopping to close his lips around each ridge and suck on it. Iorveth wailed, bucking up against Roche’s arm and rocking back onto Roche’ cock.

Roche dragged his eyes up the lithe lines of Iorveth’s body, twisting his head until he could watch Iorveth’s face. Iorveth’s head was thrown back against his shoulder, and what he could see of Iorveth’s expression conveyed pure rapture. Iorveth’s mouth was slack, drool running down his chin, and Iorveth’s eyelashes cast little shadows across his cheek.

Roche had never seen anything so beautiful and his breath hitched, something hot and soft rising in his chest. Who was he to get to see such beauty? The one ordinary human amongst a company of exceptional people and he would forever thank the gods for whatever had made them choose him. 

Iorveth’s nails scratched against his thighs as the overwhelmed elf searched for something to ground him and Roche stroked his hand up and down Iorveth’s side. Iorveth rocked his hips against Roche’s, little rolls using muscles that meant Iorveth was constantly clenching around him. When Roche glanced down at Geralt again, Geralt opened his mouth, letting Iorveth rest on his tongue for a long moment before sealing his lips around the base of Iorveth’s cock and drawing up it slowly.

Iorveth cried out, one hand coming up to clutch at Roche’s hair. Geralt clearly knew what he was doing, drawing noises out of Iorveth that Roche had never heard before, and he probably should have been jealous, but all he could do was wonder if Geralt might teach him. Such glorious sounds should be generated regularly, especially if they all came with the long arch of Iorveth’s neck. Roche dragged his mouth across Iorveth’s neck, licking across the drool on Iorveth’s chin and kissing the corner of his mouth teasingly. 

Iorveth made a soft sound, his fingers tightening in Roche’s hair. 

“Mmm, what do you want, darling?” he asked against Iorveth’s cheek.

Iorveth opened his mouth, but all he managed to do was moan frantically. 

“Shh,” Roche whispered, kissing across Iorveth’s cheek to his ear, “it’s all right. I know what you need, darling,” he breathed into the whorl of Iorveth’s ear, sucking on his earlobe and then nibbling up the outer shell of his ear until he reached the pointed tip. “You just need a little pain, don’t you?” he murmured, closing his teeth delicately around the tip of Iorveth’s ear and pressing lightly.

Iorveth jerked, drawing in a great gasping breath before releasing it in a soundless sob as he pulsed around Roche, wetness dripping down Roche’s thighs. Triss tangled a hand in Geralt’s hair and pulled him back at just the right moment for Iorveth to come over his face.

Geralt moaned, sticking out his tongue to catch more of a taste. Triss dragged Geralt up by his hair, until she could lick into his mouth, grinding into Geralt’s ass. And they made a lovely sight, of course they did, but Roche’s eyes were drawn back to the curve of Iorveth’s neck, the sharp line of his jaw, soft way Iorveth’s eyes fluttered open to look at him. Iorveth’s lips curled upwards in a smile when their gazes met and Roche had to taste that smile. 

Their kiss was deep, full of feelings Roche wasn’t ready to examine, but it didn’t matter because he couldn’t think anyway, not with the way Iorveth sucked intently on his tongue and the way Iorveth’s hand stayed tangled in his hair, even as the elf struggled onto his knees so that he could twist around and straddle Roche without separating any more than necessary. Iorveth’s hand grasped Roche’s cock, holding him steady so that Iorveth could sink back onto him with a pleased sigh exhaled into his mouth. He moaned, his fingers digging bruises into Iorveth’s hips. 

“Come on, Vernon,” Iorveth pulled back enough to breathe against him, “fuck me like you mean it.”

Roche growled, tipping Iorveth onto his back and fucking into him slowly. Iorveth wrapped his legs around Roche’s waist, seemingly content to lay back and let him set the pace as long as his mouth didn’t stray from Iorveth’s. Any time he tried to withdraw for any reason, Iorveth chased him, fingers clenching in his hair. He reached up and twined his fingers through the hand on his neck, dragging it down to the bedspread above Iorveth’s head. Iorveth squeezed his hand tightly, Roche almost wished he could last forever, and that eternity would feel like this. 

But he was only human, and while he liked to think his stamina was impressive – though discovering that elves could go all night had forced him to reassess exactly what he considered impressive – it was not endless and he felt so overwhelmed, surrounded by Iorveth’s taste and touch and smell and their movements together were soft and tender, because Iorveth was _letting_ him be soft and tender. _Inviting_ him to be, even. 

Again, he wondered over how lucky he was to be a part of this, to be the one human _chosen_ by this hard-hearted elf who responded to his tenderness with just as much softness and yearning. Whatever he’d done in a past life – because surely he hadn’t done anything worthy in _this_ life – to earn him this, he was eternally grateful. 

Next to them, he could hear Geralt bouncing on Triss’s strap, could hear the way the Witcher let himself moan openly, the way Triss whispered praise and spells into Geralt’s ear, sending the shiver of magic across all of them again. 

Then Iorveth’s deep voice was echoing in his ears, “come for me, Vernon,” and it was all too much. Roche tumbled face first into a wave of pleasure, mind flying high in euphoria. The rush of heat burned away his self doubt, and his body finally fully relaxed. He was here because they _wanted_ him here, and that was all that mattered.

He drifted for a long time, only vaguely aware of the feeling of bodies surrounding him, the touch of soft lips against various body parts, the rough rasp of voices that no one else would find soothing, but that seemed to sand over the jagged edges in his mind.

“Vernon,” a deep, raspy voice called. Or was it high and sweet? Low and growling? 

Some mixture thereof, and his mind gradually connected the dots between sound and touch and awareness. 

He moaned softly, and felt three pairs of lips press against his skin. 

“Vernon?”

“Mmnh?”

“Just making sure you’re still with us,” Triss’s soft voice caressed his ear. “Are you done? Or do you want more?”

More? Another chance to please someone, to make someone feel good and hear those soft moans? Yes, absolutely. 

He wasn’t quite up to words, but he grunted approvingly and forced his fingers to move into the sign for _yes, more._

“Good,” Triss laughed, “because Iorveth’s recommendation of your mouth is legendary and I must discover for myself.”

She shifted and he felt hands arrange him until Triss was kneeling over his face and all he had to do was tilt his chin and let her taste wash across his senses. They hadn’t actually done this before, somehow, but Roche _loved_ using his mouth, loved bringing pleasure to his partners with his clever tongue.

As he learned what made Triss make the best noises, he could feel rough lips pressing against his skin, not trying to arouse, just...touching. As if he were worth being worshipped even when he couldn’t go again. It made him whine against Triss’s cunt, and the sheer _care_ he could feel coming from his companions with each kiss and each touch had him tearing up like a ridiculous fool.

“Shhh,” Iorveth murmured against his ribs, “stay here with us. Just be here.”

Iorveth’s hand was twined through his, Roche realized, and Geralt picked up his other hand, kissing each fingertip before clasping their hands together. Triss stroked through his hair, and Roche let himself fall back into sensation, trusting that it was safe to do with his companions around him.

Triss purred approvingly above him, rocking against his mouth. “Fuck,” she murmured, “Iorveth, you’re absolutely right. Vernon’s mouth deserves a gods damned monument, ah!” She arched above him, her thighs tightening around his ears. “Oh, like that, _yes!”_

Soft warmth suffused Roche’s body with the knowledge that he could be good, he could bring is partners pleasure and make them feel as wonderful as they made him feel.

“Yes,” Iorveth whispered, “so good, Vernon. So good for us.”

He whimpered, thrusting his tongue up inside of Triss and she clenched around him, fingers going tight in his hair. 

“Oh!” Triss gasped, her breath coming out in a long extended sigh as her body suddenly went limp above him and his face was drenched in her pleasure. Geralt caught her, supporting her as Roche gentled his mouth against her.

When she was done, Geralt lowered her softly to the bed, stroking his fingers across her face. Triss smiled at him softly, pulling him down against her.

Roche was distracted from Triss and Geralt, though, because Iorveth continued to kiss across his ribs and belly, still treating him as if he were worthy of care, and his arms didn’t really want to move, but he had to reach up and slide a hand into Iorveth’s hair, had to touch this wondrous elf who made him feel like this, all floaty and pleasant and warm. 

Iorveth leaned into his touch, kissing up his chest until their faces were level and Iorveth’s arms could wrap properly around him. 

Iorveth kissed his brow, his cheeks, his nose. “Sleep, Vernon. I’ll wake you when we need to go. Sleep. You’re safe here.”

Roche hummed, tilting his face to tap their noses together even as his eyes fluttered shut. With Iorveth wrapped warm around him, skin still tingling from Triss’s magic where her arm brushed against his, and Geralt’s gruff voice murmuring words he couldn’t make out, it was the easiest thing in the world to let himself drift away, safe and content.


End file.
